


Dinner Games

by orphan_account



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fingerfucking, Intersex Loki, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pseudo-Incest, Semi-Public Sex, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 21:55:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1873887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor has been sending Loki <i>looks</i> all evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner Games

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for a PWP prompt on the kink meme [here](http://norsekink.livejournal.com/13205.html?thread=32560021#t32560021).
> 
> I didn't get all the bonuses, sorry, but I hope you like it anyways! c:

Thor has been sending Loki _looks_ all evening.

Heated looks, coupled with heated touches that leave Loki’s skin burning for minutes afterward. Not that Thor isn’t usually a physically demonstrative person - quite the opposite, in fact - but the soft, casual touches are accompanied by, oh, a sideways glance through blond lashes, a slow run of Thor’s tongue across his bottom lip. Thor rarely graces the world with any form of subtlety, and it would be driving Loki mad if it wasn’t so suspicious.

He doesn’t understand what Thor thinks he’s doing, because they won’t be free for another couple of _hours_ at the very least. The brothers are seated far opposite to their parents at the end of a long, grand dining table laden with food (primarily featuring, who could possibly have guessed it, roasted boar). It is typically brought out when the Allfather and Allmother are looking to foist off important but tedious nobles at feasts without offending them by seating them close to the princes and far from the actual rulers - a prestigious but ultimately pointless location, as Thor distracts Lord Something-or-other and Lady What-was-her-name with tall tales of great hunts and grand adventures.

Except it looks like the nobles have realized the futility of attempting to direct the conversation toward more political matters, and Thor has gotten bored of regaling sycophants with worn-out stories.

Thor’s palm alights on Loki’s thigh for a single moment, gone in less than a second to reach for an extra linen but not soon enough to save Loki from twitching in reaction. The fleeting warmth seeps into Loki’s skin, and he thinks that if he has to endure this much longer, he will excuse himself early.

Finally, Thor quits looking for reasons to reach around Loki and groans loudly in a way that makes Loki shift and press his thighs together for a moment. Thor leans back dramatically, grabbing a flagon of mead with his right hand and throwing his left across the arm of his seat. And, out of the sight of the rest of the table’s occupants, across Loki’s lap, gently rubbing his thumb in little circles on Loki’s knee.

“What are you doing?” Loki whispers, attempting unruffled contempt and hitting something more like breathless anticipation. Well, he’s never claimed to be stoic.

“Peace, brother,” Thor murmurs, and, oh, it was a mistake to invite him to speak so quietly. Thor murmuring is akin to a pair of knuckles running down the length of Loki’s spine - he arches ever so slightly, shivering.

Loki is about to argue in favor of a little more clarification than that, but Thor drags his hand up and presses it hot and heavy against the front of Loki’s breeches, silencing Loki more effectively than if he had pressed it against Loki’s mouth. Loki makes a small sound, fighting not to twitch again, and gets the hint enough to settle for staring at Thor balefully.

Thor merely smiles and draws his eyes back aimlessly to the crowd, relaxed and half-lidded as if with drink. So that is the game that they are playing tonight.

The heat that has slowly been pooling between the points of Loki’s hips all throughout dinner is growing too strong to resist, so Loki abandons all pretense of eating to press back into his seat, using the padded chair to straighten his posture while his spine slowly turns to jelly. Thor raises his cup, smiling into his wine, and pulls the tie on Loki’s breeches to unravel in the same moment. He quickly dips his hand inside (and Loki doesn’t know whether to be thankful or regretful that the soft leather is gentle enough on his skin to not necessitate a loincloth) to resume his slow circular petting, this time on bare skin.

Loki hadn’t quite realized exactly how far his brother intended to go until this moment. He flushes up to his ears, quickly following in Thor’s example to hide his face in his own horn of wine, but does nothing to stop his brother.

In fact, Loki tilts his hips at just the angle to make Thor’s proposed task easier while drawing his shoulders back into his usual haughty and detached pose. While Loki picks his challenges, he is not one to reject the offer of pleasure.

Thor has not stopped tracing little circles on Loki’s inner thigh.

Loki re-adjusts his grip on his horn one last time before lowering it, then leans his chin into his hand, smirking at nothing in particular. He tilts his gaze toward Thor, daring, and spreads his knees a fraction. 

Thor looks a little happily surprised, but his expression quickly flickers past into satisfaction, and then dissolves to a tipsy haze, staring at empty space above the dining table. Loki might admit to being mildly impressed. Let nobody accuse Thor of being incapable of deviousness when he is _truly_ after something.

Though Loki is beginning to doubt that Thor is truly after _this_ , because the unceasing, steady loops of touch are not moving an inch - and yet he is definitely succeeding in driving Loki up the wall. Thor does occasionally favor the waiting game, on one notable occasion binding Loki’s hands with Mjolnir’s leather strap and working Loki up to near madness before relenting to sink between his brother’s legs to the sharp and desperate scrape of nails against his back - but this? This is not the time for slow and soft. Loki will not be able to quiet himself as Thor strings him out piece by piece, cannot-

Loki gasps, unprepared for Thor to finally move his hand to his half-hard cock. His brother wraps a palm around him within the confines of his breeches and rubs once, twice, before moving lower. So not quite slow today, Loki thinks, and quickly pulls his horn up to his mouth before someone notices that his expression has tensed rather suddenly.

Not giving Loki a chance to regain his composure, Thor uses his pointer and ring fingers to gently spread Loki’s quim, holding him open for one breathless moment, before stroking suddenly right along Loki’s core.

Loki shudders helplessly, pressing his hips down and trapping Thor’s hand where it is for a moment. More heat bears against him, Thor’s hand against his Jotun sex like coal on cool stone, and yet Thor does not move as Loki pushes his hips down even more insistently.

When Thor chuckles into his mug, Loki finally realizes that he cannot push against Thor’s hand without trapping it in his breeches and restricting all movement. He regretfully shifts back to his original position, heavily swallowing the mouthful of wine he managed to sip before forgetting himself. His quim is a relatively new addition to their sex life, unveiled only once his infant-cast shapeshift broke for the first time. It is also the best way to rile Loki up quickly, partly in thanks to Thor’s greater experience with women but mostly due to Loki’s inexperience with its sensations. He has lain with others while disguised as a woman before, of course, but a glamour is different from a full shapeshift - the signals his nerves send are no longer muddled, the veil of magic no longer a shield between his body and every touch afforded it.

Thor, of course, has quickly learned to take advantage of it. Not that Loki complains when he is being licked into or filled stroke by stroke, impossibly wide and pleasantly full. Loki is expecting more of the usual, prepares to muffle himself as best he can while Thor takes him apart quickly and devastatingly.

So obviously Thor resumes tracing gentle circles, catching on Loki’s inner lips with each pass but doing nothing more than tracing the edge of Loki’s entrance. Loki stares at him beseechingly in dismay. Thor’s thumb is a repetitive rub, rub, _rub_ around Loki’s entrance, and Loki would claw Thor’s hair off if he wasn’t clutching at his drink and chair arm like lifelines. He can’t move or speak, afraid that any action on his part will lead him to beg, and his resistance leaves him captured and trembling for long minutes as Thor slowly winds him up circle by circle.

Loki’s cock is pressing tightly against his breeches, Thor’s wrist an unmoving brand along the side of his shaft, and soon Thor’s slow spirals are nearly frictionless. Loki's so sensitive he fancies he can feel Thor's pulse as his wrist turns to press more firmly against Loki's cock. It cracks Loki’s resolve inch by inch until all he can think about is the hot ache centered between his thighs. Thor’s sweet motions are sapping Loki’s will and leaving him tense and unable to tug his thoughts away from the painful hope that Thor’s finger will stray. It’s ridiculous that his brother can so shake apart Loki’s composure, but here he is - Loki Silvertongue, panting and straining against himself as his brother shatters him in secret before the entire feasting hall. Loki is about to plead for Thor to relent, to not play games, but Lord Something-or-other, Vesteinn, who cares, chooses that moment to attempt to dangle another legislative line before Asgard’s more notoriously political prince.

“So, Prince Loki,” Lord Vesteinn begins, leaning over across Lord Alfgeir (who shoots him a nasty look but continues to bother Lady Inger with something about mining rights), “I couldn’t help but notice during the trial the other day…”

Loki doesn’t hear the rest of it because Thor smiles pleasantly from his side and slowly sinks one finger deep into him, deliciously hot, the misbegotten bastard. Loki’s eyes fly wide open and he breathes in a single long breath with the movement until Thor twitches slightly and Loki has to bite his lip until the sharp pain grounds him.

“My - my apologies, Lord Vesteinn, could you please repeat yourself?” Loki asks, hoping he doesn’t sound as out of breath as he feels.

The finger Thor holds pressed into him makes no further movement, and Loki clenches down upon it desperately as Thor’s thumb once again begins to trace the damned, cursed circles into his flesh. He twitches his hips forward slightly to encourage Thor to move just a little higher, just a little. For one glorious moment, Thor’s thumb drags up and Loki deliriously thinks Thor is about to concede and grant a stroke to his clit - but Thor simply relocates his maddening circles firmly around Loki’s clit, not deigning to brush against it on the way.

Loki is ready to shriek to the ceiling when he blinks and realizes that this time he has completely missed whatever it is that Vesteinn wants. It might be better, he thinks, if Vesteinn was hideous, but as it is, in his current state Loki can’t help but stare hungrily at the man’s jaw line and imagine how the red bristles of his beard would feel scraping against Loki’s thighs.

Thor chuckles from his right, the movement of his shoulders vibrating torturously down between Loki’s legs, and moves to take Loki’s drinking horn. It is only half-empty and tilting dangerously close to spilling without Loki’s notice, so Thor places it on the table, earning a momentary glare from Loki. How condescending and - oh, all it takes is a shift of Thor's wrist for Loki to slump and bite his tongue lest he embarrass himself.

“Our apologies, Lord Vesteinn,” Thor rumbles, still leaning against Loki’s side as Loki quiets his gasps and tries desperately not to rut up against Thor’s unmerciful, slow-moving hand, “I’m afraid my brother has overindulged this evening and is not his usual self. I hope you find no offense? 

“Oh, well,” Vesteinn smiles in understanding while Thor spreads the lips of Loki’s cunt even wider. Loki can’t resist arching his lower back forward and opens his knees until they hit the sides of his chair, sliding down lower in his seat with a soft, hopefully drunken-sounding moan, “I know how it goes with you younger warriors. I do hope you two learn your limits sooner rather than later, and not quite the disastrous way I did. Ah, what am I saying!”

Chortling to himself, Vesteinn turns his attention to the escalating debate on miners’ rights. Loki could cry his relief, but instead closes his eyes and strangles a sound at the back of his throat as Thor presses two more fingers inside him and finally, finally presses his palm to Loki’s clit. Loki’s hands fly to Thor’s forearm and he digs his nails in as Thor rubs back and forth, spreading his fingers and then twisting them in a way that usually has Loki grinding his teeth and crying out into the pillows. With one final twist, Thor shifts his arm so that Loki can buck and grind his cock against it, and Loki comes silently at the table, mouth gaping open for a precious few seconds.

But while the stimulation against his quim is overwhelming, his cock has barely been touched, and Loki only manages to orgasm with his cunt, remaining hard against Thor’s subtly twisting wrist. His dick twitches once, and a dollop of precome runs down onto Thor’s hand to join the copious fluid that has already dripped over his fingers and run onto Loki’s thighs.

Instead of bringing his hand up to finish Loki off, Thor continues to rub against Loki’s inner walls, allowing the weak, minute twitches of Loki’s hips to grind his clit against Thor’s palm. The dual overstimulation and simultaneous lack of satisfaction leaves Loki squirming impotently, still clinging to Thor’s forearm. A particularly skillful drag of Thor’s fingers causes Loki to jerk, banging his knee against the table. The overall noise of the hall drowns out the noise completely, but somehow Frigga’s attention is caught at that moment, and she turns to look at her two sons. 

Loki smiles wanly as she catches his eye, and Thor still his hand for a moment. Holding Loki’s gaze for a moment, Frigga’s eyes suddenly widen and she rolls her eyes almost violently before looking away.

Loki doesn’t dare glance back in that direction for the rest of the evening, flush with humiliation and shame - though not quite as much as if their mother hadn’t seemed just that little bit amused.

Thor, however, doesn’t seem to be nearly as concerned as he should be, and resumes his motions with renewed vigor. This time, Thor withdraws his fingers from Loki’s quim to Loki’s quiet moan of confused protest. He extends his fingers to both grind the heel of his hand in accursedly familiar spirals against the base of Loki’s cock, and still reach his fingertips to Loki’s entrance. Soon, the agonizing caresses replace sickening curl in Loki’s belly with white hot _want_.

Playing softly with Loki’s quim, Thor invents a torment old and new - both his palm and the pads of his fingers join to press methodical circles into Loki’s flesh. Thor is teasing around Loki’s entrance and using Loki’s slick to not quite allow any friction _anywhere_ as Loki agonizes his lip in distress. Loki is outright leaking with desire, uncomposed and crude in his want, reduced scrabbling his nails against the chair again. His hair is starting to curl away from its usual style as he tilts his head back and the seat brushes against it. Loki is pretty sure he looks like a mess, but he can’t bring himself to care - would instead clench his legs together and ride Thor’s fingers to completion, only pressing down leaves Thor’s hand unmoving and thrusting forward only allows Thor to bring his hand back just far enough to leave Loki gasping and unfulfilled. He doesn’t dare bring his own hands to touch himself - he wants, oh, he _wants_ , but that is not how this game is played.

Loki is unsure if he wants to bite Thor’s lips bloody or just cry.

Opening his mouth would surely leave him gasping his pleasure for the whole table, so Loki can’t quite figure out how to plead for Thor’s mercy. His suffering continues this way for the better part of an hour as Loki gouges his nails into his seat and Thor’s hand grows tired far too slowly. Eventually, Thor shifts meaningfully his seat - the first sign Loki is not the only one affected - and Loki can’t help but moan softly in relief as Thor swipes his thumb hard across Loki’s clit. Loki’s eyes roll nearly to the back of his head at the sensation - and then Thor withdraws his hand, smearing clear fluid under Loki’s tunic as he fumbles to tie Loki’s breeches one-handed.

A cheer goes up further down the table as someone roars a conclusion to their epic, and Loki blesses them thankfully as he takes the moment to cry out loudly at Thor’s parting squeeze of his cock. Loki tracks Thor’s hand desperately as his brother lifts it to his mouth and, looking Loki directly in the eyes for the first time since this game began, slowly pops each finger past his lips. Thor sucks them clean one by one, and when he finishes by thumbing his lower lip and drawing his thumb across to leave a glaze on his mouth, Loki whimpers. He would get Thor the moon, stars, and the Lady Freyja in that moment if his brother would just allow him to find relief - in Thor’s hand, his own, the leg of the table - _anything_.

That is how they finish dinner - Thor sitting smug, satisfied, and thrumming with a pleasant tension beneath his skin, and Loki melting into his seat cushions as his cock throbs and his core pulses and aches deep in his quim. If anyone happens to notice the younger prince begin to draw out of his unusual bought of drunken sleepiness, Thor’s hand shifts back in a caress _just so_ , and Loki’s concentration snaps back to preventing himself from keening like an animal. When the feast finally ends and the princes depart to their chambers, a few guests note that Prince Loki moves quite quickly and steadily for one who spent the evening a tad too deep in his cups.

That night, Loki pushes Thor down into the bed and rides him hard and desperate until Thor is laughing and gasping out crass jokes about Svadilfari between kisses.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the comments! I am not going to respond to them all because that strikes me as a bit weird on a porn fill, but I promise I read and grin widely at each one.


End file.
